White is the Color of Broken Dreams
by The Musical Chronicles
Summary: Death is white. Not black, for it is too easily recognized, but instead it is the lightest and most serene color of all. That way it can steal our lives from us swiftly. White is death.


[...white is the color of broken dreams...]

_The rain pounded down on the road mercilessly, transforming the large hill that lead up to North High into a raging waterfall. The rivers of roads that crisscrossed beneath the waterfall splashed against each other, a thousand different currents flowing together to form one giant whirlpool of branches and mud._

_The roads were supposed to be closed off, as they had been for days now, but the rain had washed all the signs and protests away, tricking a few foolish cars to think that it was now safe. The rain had lightened up a bit, but it was still wildly dangerous to even consider driving a car through the lashing waters and moaning winds._

_A black figure who was watching his steps carefully slowly descended down the waterfall's cement boundaries. Taking extreme caution, the boy was making his way home through the storm as many had warned him not to. Of course, he wouldn't listen. He had made it home and back to the school several times, and this would be no different._

_But oh how wrong he was._

_A thundering sound erupted again as lightning flashed across the gray sky like a mirror shattering. But, the figure noticed, the rumbling sound would not stop. Confused, he turned his head to the clouds, only to see the combination of lightning and rain. He looked straight out into the distance, and noticed two hideous orbs gleaming at him as if they belonged to a monster. But as he began to comprehend what exactly they were, it was much too late._

_Making a deafening crash that blended with the sound of thunder, the two eyes spun around in a circle cutting through the gloom, only to illuminate the redness of what they created before slowly closing their eyelids._

_Much too late indeed…_

---

Teardrops fell onto blue jeans, turning invisible once they sunk in. Sobs and silent crying echoed throughout the cursed room as the doctor delivered the news, wearing a white coat that made him look like the phantom of death.

"I'm afraid he's not going to make it."

They had seen a lot of this recently because of the storm – car accidents and the like. When they had found the boy he was still alive, but just barely. Perhaps it would've been better if they had left him there instead of taking all these procedures just to find out they couldn't do anything.

The stubborn girl with ribbons in her hair would usually never cry in front of others, but this time she wasn't afraid to show it. She was one of the two who were sobbing, head in her hands, tears leaking out of the cracks her shaking fingers made. The delicate brunette was weeping with her, while the silent doll continued to stare at the door. The boy who was with them let his mask drop to let streams of crystal run down his face as well – mourning for the other who was trapped in the room of white.

The black-eyed girl left, apparently to go wash up, which left the three extraordinary individuals alone.

"He cannot die. The result will be catastrophic," the doll murmured, still staring at the door. The brunette hiccupped. Another tear traced the tracks on the boy's cheek.

"Her powers cannot reverse death," the boy said, weaker than he would have liked. "We have no choice but to go with your plan."

The fragile girl burst into another sob, but she too knew that they had no other option. He dying could result in the end of the world.

The passive doll finally turned to look at them directly. "I will form the data accordingly. He was merely injured. He never died. And he must never know that he died, or else the world could come to an end." She blinked, letting a single, shining crystal roll down her face. "Calculating data. Adjusting data. Subject forming. Computing. Sending. Adjusting."

---

After the accident, Kyon often wondered why he was treated differently by the other members of the SOS Brigade. He wondered why Asahina never talked to him more than necessary, why Nagato didn't even bother to speak to him anymore, and why Koizumi treated him like the lowest form of vile whenever Haruhi wasn't around. When he finally gathered up the courage to ask one of them, they'd never reply.

Haruhi, of course, was oblivious to this. She was just happy that Kyon was alive – that a miracle had occurred to save him.

But no miracle could put a stopper on death.

They were both protected from the truth.

And the three knew, no matter how painful it was, that this was the way it had to be.

* * *

A/N: Well, wasn't that angst-y for my first fanfiction? I'm usually a comedy type of person.

I'm sorry if it was made of fail, my writing is like that. I tried to make it difficult to understand, trying not to actually address things directly. That probably made it confusing, not witty though. Well, I'm young, I have to learn. If you didn't understand, the gist of it is Kyon died and Nagato sort of made a clone of him in order to protect the world. Yeah.

This was not beta'd by the way. I'm a newb and I don't know how to do anything yet – pfft. So there was probably a TOTALLY obvious spelling issue that took away from the flow of the story... er, please tell me if there is.

Hope you enjoyed. ^^

(I obviously don't own Haruhi.)


End file.
